


Tell Me

by Salty_but_Sweet



Category: James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond (Movies), On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969)
Genre: After Movie, F/M, Happy Ending, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_but_Sweet/pseuds/Salty_but_Sweet
Summary: Two or three short one-shots on the life of this adventurous couple. Little plot around the series themes. Some fluff and teasing, well mostly fluff and teasing.





	Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

> There was an annual Bond-marathon on TV and I lean more and more every year for this pairing. I'll post here few one-shots that came to mind. This is my first time trying to write more in the direction of British English, oh my... Not good with that, at all...

”James Bond. Married to the only daughter of the biggest crime syndicate in Europe. Oh, if the press knew.”

He settled for a wide, silent while pulling a black sock to his right leg. He was to meet with M — unofficially of course — before the stroke of ten which meant he had to get up whereas Tracy could lie in bed until her visit to the stables of Wimbledon at one o’clock. He wasn’t yet keen on the idea of Tracy walking in public while in London. It felt too open, too dangerous — the most likely place on where to find them by his enemies. The assassination attempt against her life two years back still on his mind on the dark hours of the night.

“I’d be more interested in how your father's business partners reacted to the news.” He replied with casual mannerism, leaning in to kiss her after putting on his dressing gown.

“Oh, yes. I’d think father would be rather enthralled to be able to proclaim how he had a special agent as his son-in-law. Your M, on the other hand, would have a rather difficult time to explain your personal connections to foreign nations.”

James smiled more widely at the idea, sharing his wife’s pleasure on the prospect. He could almost fathom how the old man would get a slight tint of red on his face, sputter a little, before remembering the thought-out explanation Moneypenny must have reserved for him in the light of potential questions.

* * *

“What do you think he is asking you to do?”

James turned, slightly surprised that Tracy had pulled herself out of their 5-star hotel bed; his meeting had to worry her more than she had let on amidst their shared pondering over the message they had received five days ago.

He was, after all, retired.

“I don’t know.” He answered, raising his other brow in an old mannerism.

He poured her a cup of coffee, holding the small plate in his hand and pouring from a height.

She didn’t react to the show, and he knew in advance that the coffee would be too bland to her taste. No matter his battle-hardness, he could never enjoy the strength of the coffee of her taste. She drank her coffee so black he had pondered the healthiness aloud for two whole times. The only times when she put any sugar or cream in it were the times they had been on a fancier party, forced to play the role of docile newlyweds.

He drank his own cup while watching her face. He wasn’t sure whether it was about memorization or whether he was just admiring her.

“And if they are asking you to re-join?”

“They shouldn’t ask that. They have more than capable people to replace me.” He said, putting the cup and the small plate to the side to wait for the room service to clear them out later.

Tracy watched him with an unwavering stare. She had the skill to make him talk. Maybe it had been him who had told her in the beginning that he could be much more persuasive if needed, but being the first to issue those words had been simply a coincidence. She could make him talk with much more subtle and effective means than many foreign agents or villains.

“Is that a yes?” She finally asked innocently while following him unhurriedly to the door in his wake.

“That wasn’t a yes; it’s too artless to put words in my mouth.”

He was already putting his jacket on. “We can’t put things in each other’s mouths?”

“Tracy.” He placed a strand of her hair behind her ear. He swallowed the joking ‘You are going to be the death of me.’ and, instead, said, “We’ll discuss it if it’s something relevant to us.”

Tracy leaned back to study him, her beautiful eyes reading his expression and her mind relenting to her defeat in this round. She recoiled quickly, and placed a soft kiss on his left cheek, before pausing for a heartbeat and kissing him on the lips.

He lingered on the subdued taste of coffee, before bending to take the pistol out of the bureau drawer — one of the many they had hidden in the room when they had arrived.

He handed the pistol to her, unfazed by the half-covered displeasure on her face that she had carried with her from her teen-years and living under her father’s overprotecting attitude.

“Stay safe.” They both said at the same time before he shut the door on his way.

They both stayed a second longer near the door: James with his hand on the door handle, and Tracy leaning her back against it, before they shook off the feeling of departure.


End file.
